


Inside & Out

by Youremyalways



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Emotional Hurt, Hurt!Sam, Hurt/Comfort, Sam is smart, The Cage, Witch - Freeform, angst with happy ending, comfort!Dean, dean being the best brother, mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:46:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24060802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Youremyalways/pseuds/Youremyalways
Summary: When Sam gets trapped inside his own head, the only way for Dean to save him is to go inside. But what does that mean for him?How will Dean deal with seeing some of Sam’s worst memories, and how will Sam react once he knows what Dean saw?(If you’re into Broments, you’ll appreciate this story)
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Castiel & Sam Winchester, Sam Winchester & Dean Winchester
Comments: 3
Kudos: 57





	1. Chapter 1

The sound of Sam’s body hitting the floor brought every single person in the room to a grinding halt. 

It was loud. Way, way,  _ way _ too loud. The kind of earth-shattering noise that commanded everyone’s attention and concern. His head hit the concrete first, the sickening high pitched crack making chills erupt across every inch of Dean’s body. Then came the thundering crash of the rest of his form smacking the concrete not three seconds later.

Dean jerked around, mind spinning way faster than his body was capable of. He just barely caught a glimpse of the witch they were hunting, screeching loudly and vanishing in a smoky haze as Cas ripped a knife out of her heart. He didn’t even acknowledge it, just thought ‘good riddance’ for her death and sprinted over to Sam. 

His brother’s face was ghostly pale and ashen, lips turning purple. His eyes were open, however, which made Dean do a double take.

“Sammy?” He asked, placing a hand on his cheek and rubbing his thumb over the skin there, “You with me?” 

Sam didn’t move or show any sign he was even listening. Dean felt his heart rate rocket up. If Sam’s eyes were open and he wasn’t awake… did that mean he was… oh God, no… 

Dean immediately reached for Sam’s neck, pressing his fingers against his pulse point and waiting. However, before he got that confirmation, he saw Sam blink. Dean jerked his head back in surprise and relief, and then breathed out heavily again when he felt a steady throb under his fingertips. His brother was awake, but not responsive. What the hell?

“Sam!” Dean spoke again, voice loud and commanding, “Come on!” 

Again he was greeted by silence. Dean felt his stomach starting to twist, that dreadful, ominous pulling at his gut that signaled danger. Sweat was starting to gather on his upper lip, eyes going wide with fear and concern. Sam looked completely frozen, like a machine that’s only job was to blink and breathe. His eyes were open and staring up, but they looked completely empty. 

“Sam, talk to me! Come on, man!” He yelled again, pure desperation seeping into his voice. Still no reaction came so he jerked around to find Cas and yelled, “Cas, help!”

The angel jogged over and dropped to his knees beside Dean. He slid his gaze across Sam’s body for a moment and knit his eyebrows in confusion when he noticed Sam’s wide open eyes. He nudged Dean slightly out of the way as he placed a hand over Sam’s forehead, leaning forward slightly as if it would help his diagnosis.

“Strange.” He regarded, closing his eyes momentarily as his hand slid across Sam’s hairline, “It’s his body, but he’s not here… not with us.”

Dean felt his stomach drop. He brought himself to ask the question he dreaded, “His soul?” 

Cas shook his head immediately, pushing his lips to one side and narrowing his brows as he continued examining the younger Winchester, “No, his soul is still intact, I can feel its energy. It’s his consciousness that’s missing.” 

Dean swallowed, the confusion and fear both tripling in his mind, “What the hell does that mean?!”

“It seems as if he’s locked inside his own mind.” Cas announced, voice filling with dread and panic almost simultaneously.

“What?!” Dean yelled, wide eyes flicking from his unconscious brother to the angel.

“The witch stopped him by trapping him inside his own mind!” Cas elaborated, “His body’s just a husk now.”

Dean felt all the air escape him in one blow, leaving his lungs dry and empty. One second Sam was right in front of him, fighting a witch and kicking ass, and not a minute later he’s locked in a corner of his own mind. Crazy fucking lives.  _ Scary  _ fucking lives.

“Well, get him out!” Dean yelled at Cas, pointing out what he figured was obvious.

“I don’t think I can.” Cas admitted regretfully, pulling his hand away from Sam’s forehead and looking over to Dean, “He’s too deep in his mind. It would take hours to pull him back, and I don’t have that kind of prolonged power. We need to be quick, anyway. His exposure should be limited as much as it can be.”

“Exposure to what?” Dean asked, feeling the dread and frustration twist in his gut. He was so fucking sick of asking questions. He needed a solution.

Cas sighed, “His own memories. If he’s trapped in the deepest caverns in his mind, he’s going to be in trouble. Humans store their worst memories the farthest away, many of them subconsciously subdued or suppressed altogether. Sam is going to be trapped with the worst memories he has, the ones his body has stored far, far away to protect itself. The longer he’s there, the heavier it - _ they _ \- will weigh on him.”

“Great.” Dean’s voice cracked just the slightest bit as he slid his gaze back to Sam’s limp body and felt his heart lurch, “So, how do I save him?”

Cas swallowed, reaching up and gently using two fingers to close Sam’s eyelids so he wasn’t just staring blankly at the ceiling. He appeared to be contemplating for a moment before tilting his head and narrowing his eyes.

“We may not be able to help him from the outside,” He regarded before turning to Dean with a newfound hope, “But you might be able to help him from the inside!”

Dean pulled his eyebrows together in confusion as Cas jumped up to his feet. He waved his head a bit in question as he asked, “What?”

Cas reached down for Dean’s hand and the older Winchester took it, raising up from the ground. He kept shifting his gaze between Cas and Sam, crossing his arms over his chest and waiting for Cas to elaborate.

“African Dream Root.” Cas clarified, “You can go inside his mind and get him, bring him back.”

Dean’s eyebrows skyrocketed and he inquired, “How?”

“It’s similar to possession. If you can find Sam, all you’ll have to do is convince him to wake up and take control of his body. When he wakes up, you will too.”

“Okay, well then what the hell are we waiting for?!”

“Well, ingredients, for one.” Cas pointed out.

Dean again just waved his hand in a gesture that said  _ then get some _ , and in a matter of minutes they were standing in front of a table, mixing together a rancid-smelling spell and strapping Sam to a chair. 

“Dean, there’s something you should know.” Cas regarded suddenly as the last ingredient was added to the jar.

“What, now?” Dean whined.

“If you wake up Sam, you will wake up as well and you’ll both be fine.”

“I sense a ‘but’ coming.” Dean sighed. 

Cas nodded, “But… if you fail? You’ll both be gone, and I don’t know that I can bring you back.”

“So, don’t fail.”

Cas tilted his head and raised an eyebrow in affirmation.

“Well, alright. Wouldn’t feel like a real rescue mission if there weren’t any stakes anyway.” Dean smiled sarcastically, walking over to grab the jar.

“Wait, Dean. There’s something else.” Cas added, grabbing his wrist before he could pick up the jar, and there was a newfound remorse seeping into his tone that made the hairs on the back of Dean’s neck stand up.

“What?” Dean barked, tired of warnings and red tape. He just wanted to save his brother and move on. He just wanted to hug him, get him back to his room safe and sound, and reassure him. 

Cas looked over to Sam and his eyebrows dropped in concern. His lips were pinched tightly together in a frown, eyes dark and gloomy. After a second of staring at the younger Winchester, he slid his gaze back over to Dean and cleared his throat.

“There’s something you should know before going into Sam’s mind.” He whispered, and when Dean jerked his head forward in a gesture that said ‘ _ elaborate please _ ’, Cas continued, “I just want you to be prepared. You might not like what you see.”

Dean straightened out, swallowing nervously before hesitantly asking, “What do you mean?”

Cas sighed, shifting his gaze to Sam as he continued talking, “Dean, Sam’s been to hell. And not just hell, _ Lucifer’s cage _ . Nearly a century. And now you’re going to jump into the worst memories he has- ones he has suppressed far away. It’s going to be the worst of whatever Lucifer did to him. Just… don’t let it distract you, your goal is to save Sam. You can change his future, but you cannot change his past. Remember that.”

Dean felt his stomach drop to the floor, breath knocking out of him completely as if he’d been struck by a bowling ball right in the gut. He had tried to talk to Sam about the cage, but his brother never,  _ ever _ spoke of it. So, Dean did the next best thing. He tried his damn hardest to not think about Sam’s hell at all. He didn’t want to imagine it, see it, hear about it… With everything in him he wanted to pretend it didn’t exist. Dean couldn’t forget about the time he spent downstairs, either, and that was a mere forty years compared to his brother’s hundred-something. I mean, he  _ still _ has nightmares about his time with Alastair. But Sam… he had always seemed so calm and collected. Dean never even questioned if he was still thinking about the cage; there were no signs. Occasional nightmares, sure, but all hunters have those. Maybe Dean’s avoidance blinded him to the fact that his brother was still suffering unimaginably below surface level. Maybe he chose to ignore the signs that Sam was still thinking about hell. Maybe Dean was just being too damn hopeful. 

And now he was willingly going to jump into Sam’s head and witness everything he hoped to God he’d never have to think about. Experience first-hand the torture his little brother was subjected to by the biggest bad known to man. For years, he'd buried it down. And now it was all going to hit him, all at once. Talk about bad freaking luck.

“Doesn’t matter.” He decided, answering both himself and Cas as he walked up to where Sam was sitting in the chair, hair hanging in front of his closed eyes. He swallowed shallowly and spoke without a hint of a doubt, “He would do it for me.” 

Cas couldn’t argue that one. He just nodded respectfully and placed a firm hand on Dean’s shoulder. Once the older Winchester looked over his shoulder to connect their gazes, he picked up the jar and slid it into Dean’s hand.

“You should sit down.” He suggested, gesturing with his head to the chair across from Sam. 

Dean nodded, turning to Sam one more time and slipping his hand under his chin. He gently pushed the hair away from his eyes and whispered, whether to himself or to Sam he didn’t know, “I’m gonna get you back. I promise.” 

And with that he dropped his hand onto Sam’s shoulder, gave it a squeeze, and then strided over to the chair and sat down. He spread his legs and eyed the gory brown liquid in the jar with a grimace, taking a whiff and jerking his head away in disgust.

“I’ll be here the whole time.” Cas assured.

Dean nodded, looking at Sam for a moment and taking a deep breath, “Alright,” he puffed his chest, “Let’s do this.”

And then the jar was at his lips and he was chugging the liquid in three quick gulps, squinting his eyes and using all the strength in his body to keep his gag reflex at bay. As he pulled it away, he felt worry overwhelm him.

“I thought it was supposed to work immed-” 

He fell unconscious before he could finish the thought. The last thing he heard was the shatter of the glass as it hit the concrete floor. 


	2. Chapter 2

When Dean came to, it took him a moment to remember. At first his mind was blank. Numb. He thought maybe it didn’t work, but then suddenly it was all flooding back. All at once.

_ Sam was lying on a steel table, stomach down. He was tied down by the ankles, thighs, wrists, and mouth. Lucifer was standing over him with a sick, twisted grin and blood soaked hands. Sam’s back was slashed open and his ribs were exposed- broken and twisted upward to look like wings. To add injury to injury, the devil was pouring literal salt into the wound. Sam’s lungs were pulled out and draped over the rib-wings, pale pink and vulnerable. _

_ Dean swallowed down the bile climbing up his throat and ran forward to save Sam. He screamed his name, but got no attention from either of the men in front of him. He had to wake Sam up. He had to get him out.  _

_ But right as he approached Sam, there was a blinding light and then the scene disappeared. Dean yelled his brother's name again and whipped around, only to be greeted by a new image. _

_ Sam was lying down in what looked like a frying pan, strapped down by his waist, ankles, and forehead. He was moaning and whimpering in pain. Lucifer didn’t even gag the kid. There was a fire under the pan, slowly roasting Sam from below. He could smell flesh burning, and soon Sam started screaming.  _

_ Dean started running again, but just like last time, he hit a bright white light and was thrown back on his ass. What the hell? How was he supposed to wake up Sam if he couldn’t talk to him? _

_ The next time he was strapped down by the esophagus and his intestines were pulled out, inch by inch. _

_ After that, it was a pear shaped metal device with ends that bloomed after they were inserted in Sam’s mouth. He screamed as the corners of his mouth split open. _

_ Dean ran, screamed, begged. And then there was light. _

_ Sam was next restrained as little but constant droplets fell on his forehead. Dean had read about this- It apparently made the victim frantic as he/she would perceive a hollow being formed in the spot the droplets would fall. _

_ The next time there were dogs and mice in his cell. Dean moved his eyes away from his naked brother, who was being eaten alive by the animals.  _

_ He was stripped and then placed in a pot of cool oil and then heated to boiling.  _

_ By the time Dean saw the fire and burning coals, he was done. Done watching his brother suffer. Done hearing him scream. Done being thrown around like a freaking rag doll. _

_ He turned to Sam and screamed the loudest he ever has in his life. _

_ “Poughkeepsie!”  _

“Dean!” Cas’ worried voice broke through the veil between conscious and unconscious mind, pulling Dean out of his brain and catapulting him back to the land of the living.

He heard his own loud intake of breath as his eyes shot wide open, his chest feeling heavy and cramped- like it was under the weight of an elephant’s foot. He tried desperately to calm his own breaths down, counting the seconds between each exhale and attempting to listen to Cas, who was yelling something at him, but failing horrifically. Seeking any kind of clarity from Cas was a pipe dream when all Dean could focus on was Sam, who was sitting across from him and still unconscious. 

“It should’ve worked!” Dean yelled, ignoring Cas and rushing forward, falling on his knees in front of Sam and reaching up to cup his cheek.

“Just give it a se-” Before Cas could even finish that sentence, Sam was squirming slightly under Dean’s hand. Both the angel and the hunter let out deep sighs of relief.

“Dean?” Sam whispered as his eyes flicked open and then shut a few times, face scrunching up as he adjusted to the light. 

“Hey kiddo,” Dean whispered, patting Sam’s cheek, “You’re okay. We got you back.” 

Sam scrunched up his eyebrows and shifted his gaze between Cas and Dean’s faces curiously, “Got me back? From where?” 

Dean swallowed, heart pounding. Did Sam not remember?

He hoped that was the case, telling Sam simply, “The witch got you pretty good, trapped you inside your own head. But don’t worry, big brother got you out.”

Sam looked down, a calculating look on his face as his eyes scanned back and forth like he was trying to remember. Then suddenly, his eyes went wide and he let out a hitched breath that made Dean’s heart rate double. 

“That wasn’t a dream. It was real.” He muttered to himself in a broken voice before reaching for Dean’s hand and yanking it away from his face, standing up from his chair and putting a few feet between them before accusing angrily, “You went inside my head!”

Dean stood up, jerking back a little in surprise. He wasn’t expecting anger.

“I…” He stuttered, not sure what he was supposed to say.

“What the hell is the matter with you, Dean?!” Sam yelled, pulling his hands up to run through his hair. He squinted his eyes shut and shook his head minutely. If there was only one word to describe the look on his face, it was betrayal.

Dean didn’t know how to respond. He was so surprised by Sam’s angry response that his mouth was essentially useless. He’d expected gratitude, sadness, confusion, or even despair, maybe, but… not anger.

“Sam, we didn’t know how else to save you.” Thankfully Cas took over, stepping forward so he was standing next to Dean.

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have saved me, ever think of that?!” Sam snapped, the rage still rolling off of him in waves.

Any words brewing in Dean and Cas’ minds dissipated completely. An uneasy silence fell over the room, heavy as the moon. Sam would always be the type of person that didn’t think he deserved saving, and Dean knew that. But something about hearing him scream it out loud made it so much worse. He didn’t know how he was supposed to respond to that.

Again, he stuttered over his own words,”I… I had-”

“You didn’t have to do anything!” Sam cut him off with a yell, “They’re  _ my  _ memories! They were not yours to see! Dean, you invaded my privacy in the worst possible way!” 

Dean’s shoulders sank down as the breath was knocked out of him completely. He never thought about it that way.

“I didn’t know what else to do.” He whispered, approaching Sam slowly.

“You had no right!” Sam yelled again, but this time there was a slight crack in his voice and a shining of tears gathering in his eyes. Dean’s heart broke.

“I didn’t have a choice.” He responded, quietly. At this point he realized he was fighting a losing battle.

Sam scoffed and turned his back to Dean, running a hand down his mouth and squinting his eyes shut in frustration and despair. Cas took a careful step back as Sam walked in his direction, avoiding the crossfire. 

“Sammy…” Dean begged, walking after him and reaching out with his hand to gently grip Sam’s forearm and turn him around. 

His brother immediately jerked away. 

“Don’t ‘ _ Sammy _ ’ me.” He practically growled, whipping around to lock eyes with his brother, “How would you feel if I invaded  _ your _ brain, Dean?!” 

Dean opened his mouth to speak, but he found that the words died on his tongue. If he was locked in his mind, and Sam came to save him… but saw all of Alastair’s torture in the process… he’d be… God, he wouldn’t even know what to feel. Anger, maybe. Heartbreak. Never in a million years would he want his brother to see that. And what Dean saw in Sam’s head… it would haunt him for the rest of his life- which is exactly what he would want to avoid if the roles were reversed. Sam had done everything in his power to hide his hell, and Dean just completely took that away from him. Took away his pride. Took away his choice. Took away his power. 

_ Fuck. _

“I’m sorry, Samm-” Dean cut himself off before he could say the nickname, knowing it would only add gasoline to the fire. He swallowed down his emotions and forcibly kept any tears back, “Sam. I’m sorry. But I couldn’t sit by and do nothing while you were trapped inside your own head! I had to do it, I  _ had  _ to.”

“You could’ve searched for something else. You could’ve tried.” Sam argued back, gritting his teeth angrily, “Did you even look?”

Dean and Cas remained quiet, giving Sam the answer he needed. He scoffed and shook his head.

“I can’t do this right now.” He shrugged, his words laced in something that sounded not unlike betrayal. He turned his head so he wasn’t making eye contact with Dean anymore and pushed his tongue over to one side of his mouth, gently shaking his head back and forth. He took a deep breath and bit down on his lip before repeating, “I can’t do this.”

And with that, he was turning his back to Cas and Dean and walking away. 

Cas was the first to try and stop him, walking slowly after him and calling, “Sam.”

Sam completely brushed him off, moving to exit the room and enter the hallway. Dean and Cas jogged to keep up with him.

“Sam, please!” Dean called once they reached the door, “Let’s talk about this!”

Every muscle in Sam’s body tensed all at once. He turned to look at Dean in a calculated manner, eyes dark.

“Talk about this?” He repeated Dean’s sentiment with an irritated and sarcastic tone. Then suddenly he was bursting. Sam screamed loudly and the raw anger and devastation in his voice made Dean stop completely in his tracks, “Leave me the fuck alone!”

Cas froze as well, eyebrows falling in a cocktail of remorse and shock. A wave of silence fell over the room, every breath each of them took becoming audible. Chills erupted all over Dean’s body and suddenly he could hear every little white noise in the room. The quiet was deafening. Suspense accumulated, all three pairs of eyes switching between faces, waiting to see who would dare speak first. Sam had a daunting, almost scary look in his eyes that warned Cas and Dean not to be that one. After a few moments, the younger Winchester scoffed just barely, ducked his head down, and paraded off to his room. Dean and Cas both flinched when they heard the loud bang of the door slamming shut behind him.

“Dean what happened?” Cas asked, and then Dean closed his eyes for a moment and remembered.

_ “Sam!” Dean screamed, squeezing his shoulders firmly and shaking him, “You aren’t in hell! We got you out!”  _

_ His brother tried to pull away from him, but winced when he hit a wall that kept him from moving back any farther. Panic overtook his face when he realized he was restrained and he started mumbling over and over again, breaths hitched, “No no no no no.” _

_ Dean’s heart ached. Sam was trying his damn hardest to get away from him. How horrible of a state must Sam be in to make him resist his own brother so immensely? _

_ “Sammy.” He begged, bringing a hand up to his jaw and gently guiding his head so he was facing Dean again, “Look at me. Please.” _

_ Sam shook his head in short, abrupt motions. He started quivering, lips wavering and eyes filling with tears. He refused, pushing at Dean’s arm, “No! No… please don’t make me.” _

_ Dean knit his eyebrows together in confusion. Why was looking at him such a daunting task? Regardless, hearing his brother plead like that sent waves of nausea through Dean’s stomach. How long has Sam been stuck in his head? An hour, maybe? How is it possible that he is already this delusional and broken? Something was off. All Dean knew what that he had to get him the hell out of there. Fast. _

_ “Please, little brother.” He begged softly, swiping his thumb over Sam’s cheek as desperation overtook him. He couldn’t do anything until he at least had Sam’s attention. So, again he pleaded, “Please.” _

He refocused when he felt Cas’s stare burning a hole in his head.

“It’s not your fault, Dean.” Cas whispered after a few moments of silence passed between them, gently wrapping his hand around Dean’s forearm to get his attention, “You had to save him, there wasn’t another choice.” 

Dean shrugged, shaking Cas’ hand off of him and moving over to the table with the ingredients on it to start cleaning up. Anything to take his mind off of the fact that he completely invaded his brother’s privacy and drove him far, far away in the process. Nevermind to distract himself from the images flooding his brain of Sam being tortured -hanged, burned, drowned. Those would never, ever go away and it made his stomach do backflips. 

“Yeah, well, that doesn’t really matter, now, does it?” Dean replied to Cas, a tight, upset smile tugging on his lips.

“Of course it matters. He’s alive because of what you did. He’s out of his head. That means something. That means  _ everything _ .” Cas argued immediately, “Sam’s smart, Dean. Right now he needs time, but he will understand that. Eventually he’ll come around.” 

“I eviscerated his privacy, Cas.” Dean argued back, a harshness creeping into his voice that was just a cover for his self-hatred, “That don’t wash off.”

“And what would he rather have: privacy, or his life?” Cas posed with a tone that screamed  _ I’m right. _

Dean laughed humorlessly, “With Sam? Debatable.”

Cas just sighed, “Dean, let me finish cleaning up. You go sleep, or drink, or whatever the hell it is you need to do.”

It took some arguing back and forth, but eventually Dean relented and made his way to the main room with a bottle of whiskey in hand. He sat at the table for hours, not even truly drinking, just thinking and playing with the liquor in the glass, swirling it back and forth.

\-------xxxxx-------

It was just past two am in the morning when he heard someone enter the room. Dean didn’t even have to look up to know it was Sam. He knew that kid’s footsteps anywhere. His heartbeat hastened a bit, half anticipating more arguing. He sighed and took another long sip of his drink, mentally preparing himself. However, as Sam approached, there didn’t seem to be any sign of hostile intentions. His footsteps weren’t stomping, but rather subdued, and he didn’t have fuming energy rolling off his shoulders. Dean took a deep, relieved breath and slid another whiskey glass in front of him, filling it halfway. He figured this would happen at some point. Sam would come back, feeling guilty and apologetic, ready to talk. Dean didn’t expect it this soon, but… 

He slid the glass of whiskey across the table to Sam once his brother reached the chair opposite him. 

Sam didn’t thank him, just sat down quietly and took a long drag of the liquor. Dean studied his brother for a moment, taking note of his bloodshot eyes and the darkening bags underneath them. The kid looked exhausted, arm shaking a bit as it held onto the glass. When he finally lowered it to the table, he made quick eye contact with Dean before darting his gaze away. The quiet settled over them for a few more seconds before finally Sam opened his mouth. 

“Are you okay?” He inquired softly, eyeing Dean with concern and a smidge of guilt in his gaze.

Dean furrowed his brows a bit and straightened his back in confusion.

“Am  _ I  _ okay?” He repeated, making sure he heard it right. No way in hell was he supposed to be the one on the receiving end of that question.

Sam jerked his chin forward a little in a gesture that confirmed Dean heard him right and elaborated, “Yeah, I mean… after what you saw. Believe me, I know firsthand that the whole ‘brother in hell’ thing isn’t an easy pill to swallow.”

“I’m fine.” Dean answered immediately, brushing off his brother’s concern. He felt guilt swirl in his stomach at the second half of Sam’s statement though. God, they had both been through way too damn much.

“Right.” Sam acknowledged, an eyebrow half raised in disbelief. He swirled the whiskey around in the glass, dazedly watching the brown liquid spin. 

“Seriously.” Dean pressed, rolling his eyes teasingly at Sam’s unwavering ability to sniff out his bullshit. 

“Don’t lie to me.” Sam suddenly went serious, a dark haze settling over his eyes and dimples disappearing as his lips fell into a frown, “I was there. I know what you saw. I can see it in your freaking face, Dean. You are not okay.” 

Dean sighed, reaching down and pulling the whiskey glass up to his lips, finishing the rest of the drink in one long sip. What the hell was he supposed to say?

Sam was right. He was so, so, _so_ not okay. He was the farthest damn thing from okay. Everytime he closed his eyes he saw his baby brother hanging upside down, head in a bucket as the water slowly crept up his face. He saw him thrashing to get away only to go limp a minute later. He saw Sammy -his Sammy- lying on his stomach with his back wide open, ribs broken and out to the sides, lungs deflated. He heard his ear piercing screams and watched the burning hot tears trail down his face. Everytime Dean breathed he saw Sam being burned alive by himself. _Himself._ Dean’s own hands. He couldn’t stop hearing his whimpers and begs. His sobs.

“Dean.” Sam called again, pulling Dean out of his thoughts and shocking him back to reality. 

“Yeah.” He swallowed around the lump thickening in his throat, pouring himself another glass and downing that one too. He smiled tightly, painfully, and sighed. Maybe it was the liquid courage that urged him to tell the truth, but regardless, he whispered, “I guess you’re right. Not an easy pill to swallow.” 

“Do yourself a favor.” Sam suggested, squinting his eyes a bit like he knew he was walking on thin ice, “Stop picturing it.” 

Dean’s eyebrows flicked up, “How-” 

“Please, I know the look. I’ve seen it in the mirror.” Sam cut him off with an amused, yet slightly pained scoff as he continued fidgeting with his glass, “Don’t do that to yourself.”

Dean squirmed in his seat, ready to tell Sam that there was no way for him to force the images away. But then he watched as in a matter of seconds, a wave of despair and grief settled over his brother. He put the glass down and bit down on his lip. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter than ever before.

He shrugged, looking down at the table for no reason other than to avoid Dean’s stare, “It’s all in my brain, Dean. I remember every second of the Cage. It will never go away. It’s a part of me and it always will be. I have no choice, and you know what? I’ve made my peace with that.” He took a deep breath and cleared his throat before finally looking up to meet Dean’s watery gaze, continuing, “But it is  _ my  _ burden to bear, and mine alone. It is  _ my  _ penance,  _ my  _ torment. You have nothing to do with it, and you shouldn’t have anything to do with it. Not now, not ever. I am okay, Dean, I promise. It was a long time ago. So, please,  _ please, _ let it go. There is no reason for both of us to carry the weight of it.” 

The selflessness of that statement hurt Dean at his very core. He slipped his eyes closed and pulled a hand up to his face, wiping it over his eyes slowly before pinching the bridge of his nose. Sam talking about hell would never get any easier. On the contrary, it actually felt like it was getting a whole lot harder. 

“Sammy,” He whispered almost like a prayer before speaking more firmly, “Clearly you didn’t read the big brother job description.”

Worrying, caring, shouldering the burden… all three were on the top of the big brother checklist. Letting Sam deal with all of his torture by himself? That would be a fireable offense. 

Sam laughed a little, but there was an emotional undertone to the sound. His eyes were still dark and clouded. He finished his whiskey and upon noticing, Dean made a come hither motion with his hand so Sam would slide him the glass to refill. However, Sam just shook his head and instead reached for the bottle. Dean’s eyebrows jumped to his hairline as Sam took a long drag directly from the mouth of the whiskey bottle before putting it down with a clang. Clearly this conversation was no easier for Sam than it was for Dean. Not by a long shot. 

After a moment, Sam let out in one long breath, “I owe you an apology.”

Dean immediately shook his head in denial. There was nothing on this earth Sam needed to apologize for. Not after everything he just went through.

He started, “No, Sam-”

“Just…” Sam raised a hand up in a ‘stop’ gesture before sighing and laughing a little in a self-deprecating manner, “Let me get this out before I change my mind.”

Dean narrowed his brows inquisitively, but nodded nonetheless, encouraging Sam to go on.

“I shouldn’t have taken off.” He confessed, seemingly fighting with himself to keep his voice even, “I know that. And I shouldn’t have gotten angry at you for going into my head, either. I know you were only trying to help.”

He pursed his lips and tilted his head back slightly to halt any tears that threatened to fall. Dean’s heart pounded faster and faster by the second as he watched Sam struggle. 

“It’s just… what you saw?” Sam’s voice cracked, “That was something I never,  _ ever _ wanted you to see. Wanted  _ anyone _ to see. And I guess when I realized you had, I just got so defensive and upset that everything -all of those memories that I kept trying to push down- they all came rushing up and I…” He let out another deep breath as the emotions threatened to overtake him. 

Dean saw his brother starting to spiral and instinctively reached out to touch Sam, both of them needing the contact. He placed his hand gently over Sam’s wrist, silently sending his support.

“I had to get away.” Sam finished the statement and continued from there, “Clear my head. I didn’t want to wait for you to ask questions, because Dean, I don’t know if I can answer them. I don’t talk about this. I don’t.” His voice went thin and hitched, “It’s too damn hard. But I also know that you deserve answers.”

Dean waited a minute to see if Sam was finished speaking, his eyes wide and wet with unshed tears and his lips pulled into a tight frown. Once he was certain Sam was done, he used the hand on his wrist to gently flick his thumb over Sam’s forearm, soothing him. He couldn’t believe Sam was distancing himself from the strict rule he set about talking about the cage- or rather  _ not  _ talking about it. But he also never wanted to put him in that position. If Sam didn’t want to talk, he didn’t have to talk. He didn’t owe Dean anything.

Dean’s voice was much more rugged than he intended it to be when he spoke, “I don’t  _ deserve _ anything. If you don’t want questions, I won’t ask you questions. I just don’t want this tearing you up inside, because I can’t watch that happen and do nothing about it.”

Sam nodded just barely, like he expected that answer. He then reached for the bottle of whiskey again and took a sip. Dean sighed, running a hand nervously through his hair. Sam was never this much of a drinker. 

When Sam put down the bottle, Dean felt the guilt twist in his stomach. 

“We never talked about the cage.” He realized and voiced out loud simultaneously, “That’s my fault. I should have asked more, I should have pushed, but I didn’t. Honestly, I think both of us were trying to ignore it. But by doing that, I left you to deal with it alone.” He bit the inside of his cheek, “I’m so sorry for that, Sam.” 

Sam shook his head immediately, “I don’t blame you.”

“Yeah,” Dean sighed, knowing that was the case and hating himself even more because of it, “but maybe you should.”

“No.” Sam argued again, “I know you. If I wanted to talk about the cage, you would’ve listened. I didn’t talk about it because I didn’t want to talk about it, not because you didn’t ask. But… my point is, when I was sitting in my room I realized something. Just because you don’t ask me questions doesn’t mean you don’t have them, and I’d rather answer them than leave you hanging. There may be some things I can explain. So,” He tilted his head and took a deep breath, “If you have questions now, I’ll try to answer them.”

“Are you sure?” Dean asked, the shock coming across in both his voice and expression.

“I’m sure.” Sam nodded.

Immediately the question that had been on Dean’s mind for the past day came to mind.

As gently as he could, he asked, “When I went to get you, you wouldn’t look at me. You didn’t even believe I was there. It was almost like you were scared of me. Why?” 

Sam nodded his head slightly and bit down on his lip, clearly unsurprised by the inquiry. He looked off to the side for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts, before turning back to Dean and clearing his throat.

“Well,” His voice was a mere whisper, “It’s not the first time I saw you in the cage. Lucifer…” Sam took a deep breath as he tried to get the words out without falling apart, “He would take your form, a lot. Torture me with uhm… with your hands. He would say things to me in your voice. Lucifer is one scary son of a bitch, but he knew that being hurt by you would hurt me more, no matter if it was real or not. So, uh… when I saw you, I figured it was a trick. Or that you were really…  _ him _ , and were gonna start…” He cleared his throat, changing the direction of his sentence, “Anyway, I’m sorry I didn’t believe you.” 

Dean closed his eyes for a moment, letting out a deep breath as he tried to collect himself. 

“Don’t apologize, Sammy.” Dean argued softly, “I’m the one who’s sorry. Not just for invading your head, but… for everything.” 

Sam nodded, smiling tightly and taking a swig of whiskey before brushing off, “That’s okay.”

Dean closed his eyes for a moment, knowing exactly what he wanted to ask next, but dreading it with every bone in his body. His breath felt like fire working it’s way up his throat as he asked solemnly, “How, uh… how often do you think about it? I mean, is it just bursts, or…”

Sam tilted his head and took a deep, audible breath. He took another drink of whiskey, visibly debating whether or not to answer. Dean felt the need to pull back, so he rushed to take back his inquiry, “If you don’t want to answer-”

“It’s fine.” Sam cut him off, eyes staring off into space as he started, “It gets a lot worse at night, when there are no distractions. I see him every time I sleep, when my walls are down. But even during the day, it’s on the back of my mind. I was there so long and  _ he  _ was so inventive that… there are so many things that remind me of it, you know? I mean, there are days where it feels like my head just doesn't work. I try so hard to focus, but it's like trying to run through water. My brain fogs up and thoughts go nowhere at all. Sometimes I think it's natural anaesthesia, anything to numb the pain. But then there are these times of vivid clarity, sudden moments when I can see every detail and feel every feeling like it’s actually happening.”

“You never told me any of that.” Dean whispered, not necessarily accusatory, but rather acknowledging and curious.

Sam nodded, “Yeah, well, it’s not exactly easy to share. And I had it under control. Even on bad days, I could hide it well enough that it didn’t cause any issues, so.”

Hide it well enough? Dean looked down for a moment as the meaning behind that quip came to him.

“And by not causing any issues, you mean I didn’t notice.” He spoke knowingly, yet carefully. The last thing he wanted to do was push Sam away again.

Sam looked up with guilty eyes.

“Wow, I really am brother of the year, aren’t I?” Dean laughed humorlessly in self-hatred, grabbing the bottle from Sam and taking a swig before placing it down and running a hand over his stubble, “Don’t even notice when my brother is thinking about hell, for fucks sake.”

Sam shook his head, “It’s not your fault. Dude, I was purposefully trying to  _ not _ have you find out. You can’t beat yourself up for that.”

“I noticed when you came back from hell, after you got your soul back.” Dean whispered softly, still self-deprecating. 

“Well, in your defense, I’d like to think I’ve gotten at least a little bit better at hiding it since then.” Sam smirked a little bit in an attempt to assuage Dean’s guilt. 

_ Attempt  _ being the key word. 

“I’m sorry, Sam.” Seemed to be the only thing Dean could say that felt even remotely fitting. 

“I think you said that already.” Sam raised a brow, “And I also think I already told you that there is nothing to be sorry for.” 

Dean rolled his eyes, “Okay, mom.”

Sam smirked a bit before his eyes darkened once again. He cleared his throat and swallowed, playing with the rim of his glass. 

“Look man, we uhm… we’ve been through a lot. Both of us.” Sam said quietly, looking down and not meeting Dean’s eyes. Then he took a big breath and on the exhale, started again, “But… that’s what we signed up for when we chose this life. All the crap that comes with it. I was the one that let Lucifer out in the first place. I started all of it, you know? It was my responsibility- no, you know what- it was my  _ privilege  _ to put his ass back in the box, no matter the consequences. If saving the planet- which includes you, by the way- means having to deal with hell trauma for the rest of my life, I’m fine with that. Happy with it, even. It could be a lot worse. I’m just sorry you had to see it.”

Dean shook his head in a cocktail of awe and dread. He hated that Sam felt like he deserved the trauma he experienced, but was thoroughly impressed by how he dealt with it. Selfless as ever. 

“Freaking Yoda.” Dean smirked up at Sam, holding his gaze for a few seconds.

Sam rolled his eyes, “Yeah, yeah.”

“Alright, come on.” Dean straightened out in his seat and reached for both of their glasses, filling each a quarter of the way. He slid Sam’s towards him and then lifted his own, tilting it forward.

Sam smiled softly and lifted his own glass. They cheersed together and downed the liquor. 

Once Dean placed his back on the table and stood up. He walked forward, towards his bedroom, but paused briefly behind Sam. He placed a firm hand on his shoulder and squeezed, “Get some sleep, Sammy.”

Sam nodded and then Dean was walking away with an audible yawn.

A few minutes later Sam was following in his footsteps, wobbling on his feet. He was drunk, stressed out, and sad… but he was sure of his brother and the strength of their relationship. And for now?

That was enough to fall asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Hope you enjoyed this story, I worked really hard on it. I apologize if it was jumpy at all, but I focused on furthering the plot over a 100% accurate time frame. Thank you!!!


End file.
